


You Look Like Her

by bpdcerberus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adoption, Anxiety, Arguing, Bandages, F/M, Fighting, I will, MSPARP, MSPARP rp, Mental Illnesses, Neglect, Smoking, can be taken down if this was you, classic bumping into eachother cliche, dylan lalonde, if you want it taken down, if youre the rose leave a me a comment, lalondes and striders arent related in this, nervous tics, stress smoking, teen for smoking and death mention, they become friendsss, this was a roleplay from MSPARP i extended on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpdcerberus/pseuds/bpdcerberus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dylan argues with a stranger about smoking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Look Like Her

Dylan had been taking a break from his brothers. The 5 of them in the one apartment was very crowded, and Dylan, having anxiety, it wasn't his thing. He was out of the apartment all the time, sometimes not even going to home at night. A lot of the times he'd stay out late, not sleeping at all, but occasionally he'd crash at his friend Karkats house.When he did it was usually because he'd gotten into another fight, and usually passed out at the doorway. But Karkat always nursed him back to health and then shoved him home where Dylan would just leave again. Today, he was spending a day at the park, a bandage around his upper arm and a smaller one on his cheek. He was wearing a twenty one pilots tank top that exposed his pale, freckled shoulders. His bright orange hair only made his skin look paler, and his bright red eyes were hidden behind aviators that moved from their place when a a person bumped into him. Dylan fell backwards onto his ass, hissing in pain. “Fucking watch it-”

Rose was only in the run down park because of her mother. 'You need help!' she would yell. As if Rose didn't know that. Her mother had a basic understanding of Rose's copious string of mental disorders and did nothing whatsoever to help her, apart from reminding her to take her pills. So, here she was, in this park whilst the cold breeze made Rose shiver in her thin blouse and skirt. Shakily, she lit a cigarette as she walked, aware of the disapproving stares she got from nearby parents and elderly people. They acted as if they had never seen a sixteen year old smoke before. She scoffed inwardly. Of course they hadn't - where her and her mom lived was the higher class part of town, kids were never seen smoking. She was so caught up in finding somewhere to put the lighter that she dropped it and cried out sharply when somebody knocked into her. Stumbling back, she watched the cigarette that had fallen out of her mouth spark out before she trod on it, frustrated. In reply to the stranger, she retorted "Why don't you look where you're going next time?"

Dylan sat up, having landed on his butt and elbows, which were now scraped and bleeding. Dylan swallowed tears as he looked at the scrapes. He'd suffered much much much worse- including knife fights and being beaten up by 5 people simultaneously- but he still had a very surprisingly low pain tolerance. Dylan gritted his teeth, getting up with a grimace. Dylan quickly realized his shades were out of place and fixed them, heart in his throat. He desperately hoped this girl hadn't seen them. People in the high end neighborhood were not very kind to any of the Striders once they found out about their strange eye colors. The only reason they hadn't been driven out is because of the eldest Strider, Dante. He made movies and was quite the celebrity. Dylan snapped his crimson gaze to the girl. "Dude, what the fuck- are you smoking? You're like 10," He exaggerated, furrowing his eyebrows. Dylan himself was the turmoilous age of 18, where he had no idea what he was doing with life but was still an adult. 

"I'm 16," she corrected, rolling her eyes. This guy was annoying her. Carefully, her lavender eyes flickered over him. She wanted to comment on the band on his shirt but decided not to seeing as they were on bad terms. "Asshole," she murmured soon after, shoving her hands into her skirt pockets, trying not to seem like she was fuming inside. "Besides, why do you care about if I smoke or not? All you are to me is a guy who can't seem to navigate himself in order to not walk directly into people," she didn't mention that half the reason they collided was because she wasn't paying attention. She would _maybe_ apologize after she was done with her mini rant. 

Dylan raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "I highly doubt you're 16. You look no older than 15." He commented, looking her over with a skeptical eye. "I care because you're gonna get fucking cancer, and i know a thing or tow about loosing fucking family to that shit-" Dylan bit his lip and fell silent, not wanting to be asked about that but knowing it was gonna happen anyways. "Just, you got someone who cars about you. Smoking is only gonna fucking hurt them and kill you so don't." He added quietly, looking angry but sounding like a concerned older brother.

"Right," she paused, beginning to light another cigarette out of spite. "Since when do you control me?" She blew out some smoke into his face, grinning. Without her realizing, her left hand was twitching every few seconds and she looked up at him, a little bit more annoyed that he had the height advantage. "What's with the bandages? Did you get into a fight?" she smirked, looking away. "I can see why,"

Dylan coughed, waving the smoke away. The smell of cigarettes always made him sick to his stomach, and this time was no different. In fact the world was spinning already. Dylan managed to keep his legs steady. He swallowed, biting his lip in an attempt to calm his somersaulting stomach. Dylan's lips were cracked and chapped from chewing them so often. "Course I got in f-fucking fight-" He hissed sarcastically. "Getting beat up but a gang off assholes is TOTALLY a fight, yeah?" Dylan snapped, gritting his teeth. God damn this girl even looked like his mother.. Before he knew it tears sprang to his eyes and he angrily swiped a stray tear from his cheek as once escaped from his eye.

"Jesus- are you crying?" she looked a little concerned now. Hesitantly, she threw her second cigarette away, nervously taking a step back as panic overcame her. "Please don't cry, I didn't mean to-" she held her breath, cutting herself off. "I didn't mean to be so mean, I swear," she seemed like a whole different person. She whispered something, but it didn't seem to be to him, she seemed to be talking to empty space. Now she was biting her knuckles, a sort of nervous tic that she had.

Fuck. Dylan thought, quickly wiping another tear away. "No.. I-Its.." He started to say something, but stopped, holding back sobs. Mrs. Strider had passed 10 years ago, when Dylan had been young. Shed smoked and drank because their Dad had up and left- for no reason. The Striders were a pretty dysfunctional family from the roots. Mrs. Strider had gotten cancer from smoking and died. "You.. look exactly like her-" He managed to say, wiping another tear away.

"Like who?" she asked. "I don't know what you're talking about, but you need to calm down. Please," she trailed off, looking around as if there were any bystanders. "Look, if it'll help, I'll get you some coffee or something," she shrugged, mentally hitting herself. Coffee? At a time like this? What a great offer.

"you.. you look like my mom.." He clarified, swallowing and chewing his lip. "S-She died when I-I was 8.." Dylan said, looking at the ground. "She start-ted smoking after our dad took off and she got cancer and-" At this point he let a sob loose, wiping his cheeks again, desperately trying to get a grip on his coolkid facade.

"Oh, I'm sorry about your loss," she bit her bottom lip. She wringed her hands, not wanting to make contact with him as it made her uncomfortable. "Could you - maybe - stop crying? I promise not to smoke around you again," she shifted on her feet.

Dylan, who was finally managing to calm down, shrugged, taking a deep breath. "S-Sorry.. fuck that was uncool of me.." He said quietly, wiping the last of the tears from his cheeks.

*** 

The two ended up getting coffee, talking about a plethora of things and exchanged numbers. Dylan never crashed at Karkat's place, in fact, he'd started going to Rose for help. He spent most of his nights in the uncrowded house that only Rose and her mother lived in. At one point, he hadn't gone home in days. No one came looking for him, so he stayed. Mrs. Lalonde liked Dylan much- she thought of him as a son. With help, Rose stopped smoking, and Dylan stopped getting in so many fights. Rose even convinced him to stop wearing the shades and to let his hair go back to it's original blonde. Dylan had dyed it because he hated looking exactly like his brother, Dave.

Mrs. Lalonde bought anxiety medication for both Dylan and her daughter, and they both began school once more.

Everything went smoothly, even up to the day were Dylan requested to be called Dylan Lalonde.

He didn't _want_ to be a Strider.

_Fin._


End file.
